


I'm Afraid of Losing You

by Dawn on ICE (Dawn_Blossom)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bodyswap, M/M, Not angsty, a kiss but only when they swap their bodies back, honestly kind of rushed though, the feel-good bodyswap au that I personally wanted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 23:58:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9045467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawn_Blossom/pseuds/Dawn%20on%20ICE
Summary: He heard cheering and opened his eyes to find himself looking at the World Figure Skating Championships.‘Oh, I get it,’ Yuuri thought with a smile. ‘This is what it would feel like to be Victor.’A bodyswap AU





	

**Author's Note:**

> Um... Merry Christmas if you celebrate it... Happy birthday to Victor Nikiforov, a man so beautiful I started crying... Uh...
> 
> It's 12:30 am right now and I'm tired.
> 
> I wrote this because I've seen a lot of bodyswap aus (everyone's watched kimi no na wa... me too, actually) but they're all too suspenseful for my poor anxious heart, so here. Have a complete, angst-free body swap au. 
> 
> So, uh... I actually really liked the first half of this... but I realized it was getting out of control and decided to just wrap it up. (Good thing, because just "wrapping it up" still took 2k words, which, if you don't know me, is about the size of my average oneshot.)
> 
> I kind of feel like this is... off-brand victuri, like... It looks like victuri... tastes like victuri... but just isn't quite as nuanced as real victuri. Then again, there's nothing I could ever do to top what the show actually gave us, so... I hope you enjoy it, anyway.
> 
> Edit: And now that I'm properly awake, I'd like to draw your attention to something that I just found out when rewatching the first episode to write this fic, which is that when they show Worlds in the first episode, it's in _Japan_! Like, are you kidding me? I literally had no idea, like... I had to go back and check because, you know, I needed to mention the location in this fic, but I honestly was not expecting... Japan, like... You cannot convince me that Victor wasn't thinking about Yuuri during that performance now. I mean, if you had a foreign crush and just happened to wind up in their home country, wouldn't you think about them, even if you were trying not to? Guys, I'm dying, please help.

Yuuri barely heard Yuuko gasp as she recognized the song playing, for he was too deeply focused on his own movements. His body, out of shape from lack of practice, strained against him. Still, he could do the moves by heart at this point. How many times had he watched Victor perform this program? And moreover, how many times had he practiced it himself, feeling the lyrics with every bone in his body?

“Stay close to me.”

“Don’t go.”

“I’m afraid of losing you.”

If he could, he would say all these things to Victor. But… it was already too late. Yuuri had lost. Lost at the Grand Prix Final, lost at Nationals, lost any chance of sharing the ice with Victor again… This was the end for him. It was only fitting that he should end how he began, by copying Victor.

The first jump was a quadruple lutz. Yuuri had no trouble landing it. It felt as natural as breathing.

If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that Victor was there with him, their separate heartbeats fusing together to become one person.

_‘I wish you knew how much I wanted to know you, Victor… If only I had been better in the Grand Prix Finals...If only I could tell you this in person…’_

The next jump was Victor’s signature quadruple flip. This was the only part of the performance that Yuuri worried he would miss. In practice, he could only pull of the move one out of maybe ten times. But with his body moving in time to the music, he felt like he could do it _this_ time. So he prepared his jump…

… and did a quadruple flip

_‘I made it?’_

He heard cheering and opened his eyes to find himself looking at the World Figure Skating Championships.

 _‘Oh, I get it,’_ Yuuri thought with a smile. _‘This is what it would feel like to be Victor.’_

Like this, he felt invincible. The heaviness that had been weighing on his soul lately vanished without a trace.

_‘If this is my last performance, I’ll make it one worthy of Victor himself.’_

With that thought in mind, he finished the program flawlessly. The crowd cheered and cheered. 

Yuuri closed his eyes and reopened them, expecting his mind to return to Hasetsu, to see Yuuko in front of him.

He did not expect to see the harsh lights of Worlds again. He brought his hand to his mouth in shock.

“What’s going on?” he practically screeched, though the words were inaudible, even to himself, over the noise of the arena.

* * *

“Last up is Victor Nikiforov from Russia!”

Victor made a few small circles on the ice, raising his arms to the cheers of his fans.

No sign of the person he wanted to see, though.

Well, it was no surprise. Yuuri Katsuki hadn’t qualified to be here as a skater. Of course he wouldn’t come just to watch Victor, even if the competition was being held in Japan this year.

Never mind that Victor had been skating “Stay Close To Me” exclusively with him in mind ever since they had met at the banquet…

But Yuuri had somehow disappeared from Victor’s radar, and he didn’t know how to find him again.

Once, the song’s lyrics had meant something else. Victor had wanted to find love, or if he could not, destroy it. But ever since Yuuri had waltzed into his life and set his heart on fire, the meaning of the piece had transformed into a plea meant for a specific person.

_‘I’m right here, Yuuri. Come find me.’_

Every time he skated, he shot his message like a beacon into the night. Something that would bring Yuuri running to his side.

“Stay close to me.”

“Don’t go.”

“I’m afraid of losing you.”

But he had already lost Yuuri. And he might never find him again.

_‘You asked me to be your coach and I thought you meant it. So why did you disappear?’_

The first jump was a quadruple lutz. Victor felt his body move without thinking.

He closed his eyes, remembering how Yuuri’s eyes had looked that night they danced together. Victor had felt something awaken in him then. Gold medals couldn’t satisfy him anymore; he had already given everything he had to the ice. What he wanted now was to give himself to a person, someone who understood the language of music, of ice, of _him_. 

And Yuuri Katsuki was his heart’s chosen.

_‘Wherever you are, Yuuri, I hope these feelings reach you. Please come back to me. I want to see you again .If only I could tell you this in person. ’_

He readied himself to make his quadruple flip. It was his signature move…

… and when he landed, the crowd went silent.

 _‘What? Why is it so quiet? ’_ he thought, gasping as he opened his eyes.

The audience he was expecting was not there. He was on an unfamiliar rink, skating in front of an unfamiliar woman. He blinked, but the setting in front of him did not go away.

_‘Should I finish the program? What else can I do?’_

Though disoriented, he managed to complete the rest of his jumps. When he finished, though, there was no thunderous applause, only a pause… and then the woman covered her face as if crying. 

“Huh?”

She started yelling in a language he couldn’t understand. The only thing he could catch was his name, “Victor.”

“Um, yes?” he spoke in English. 

She spoke something else in her language, a confused look coming over her face.

“Is it okay to talk in English?” he asked. It would be a problem if she didn’t understand what he was saying…

“I guess?” she replied. “I’m not good like you, but… Yuuri, are you okay? That was an amazing performance. You looked so much like Victor, but… did you hurt yourself or something? You look confused.”

_‘Yuuri… there’s no way that it’s…’_

“I… yes, I must have overworked myself. Can you take me home?” 

He hoped that wasn’t out of line to ask. He didn’t know how this woman and Yuuri (Katsuki?) were related. Was she a sister? A friend? A… wife?

_‘If Yuuri Katsuki is married, I think my heart might shatter.’_

“What? Yuuri, are you that hurt that you can’t go home on your own? Shouldn’t you go to the hospital?”

Victor waved his… or, rather Yuuri’s… arms dismissively.

“No, no, I’m fine! I just need to rest. I don’t want to go alone with my legs weak, that’s all.” 

The woman frowned. “That’s not very like you, Yuuri. You always have the best stamina.”

_‘Oh, right. That’s what he was known for. Weak jumps, but incredible step sequences and stamina. So am I really Yuuri Katsuki right now?’_

“It must be from all the katsudon you’ve been eating!” she continued with a laugh.

Eating? Now that he thought about it, the body he was in wasn’t exactly the standard for athletes.

_‘Has he not been skating since the Grand Prix Final? I didn’t know he was that upset.’_

Suddenly, three small children appeared, seemingly from out of nowhere. They spoke quickly in their language (it had to be Japanese, right?) The woman, presumably their mother, replied angrily. Victor was relieved when she handed them off to what was obviously the children’s father.

 _‘She isn’t married to Yuuri, so I might have a chance…’_ But the thought wasn’t very productive while he wasn’t even in his own body, so he pushed it away.

“Ugh, I’m sorry about that, Yuuri. The children are very… rough?” she said, searching for the right English word to describe her triplets. She shook her head, but shrugged. “I can help you back now.”

“Yes, thank you.” Victor said, smiling politely. The woman gave him another strange look, but soon they were on their way back to Yuuri’s home.

* * *

Yuuri felt like he was going to die. Surely this must be the strangest dream he’d ever had. He worried, too, about Yuuko. Had he fallen asleep on the ice in front of her? Or maybe going to see her had been part of the dream, as well?

Either way, he was now getting up, as Victor Nikiforov, to accept a gold medal, as Victor Nikiforov, for a performance that _Victor Nikiforov_ had skated. It was too surreal.

Luckily, after being yelled at by Victor’s coach in a flurry of Russian, everything had been in English, and Yuuri had managed to navigate the situation without making a complete fool of himself. It helped, too, that Yuuri had watched his idol for so long that he could give reasonably Victor-like responses when he had to.

But still, accepting a medal was too much.

 _‘It would be really nice if I could wake up now,’_ he thought a little desperately, but to no avail.

_‘What would Victor do…? What would Victor do…? Uh, kiss the medal?’_

He pressed his lips to gold, and the crowd went wild.

Things got much worse as he tried to leave. It seemed that everyone in the building wanted to talk to him… well, to Victor, but he was the one who had to deal with it.

Though he knew that Victor would normally be more gracious to his fans, Yuuri just didn’t have it in him to handle so many strangers at once.

“Ah, coach,” he said as quietly as could be heard over the crowd. “I’m not feeling well, so could you please take me back to my room?” he asked, trying not to allow any nervousness to seep into Victor’s smooth voice.

Yakov didn’t even turn, just snapped something in Russian at him.

Yuuri felt like he was going to sweat out of his skin.

“Ah, could you say that in English?” he asked, barely able to resist adding a “please” at the end. Surely Victor and his couch were close enough that being overly polite would sound strange?

“I said fine, Vitya. We’ll go back for now and release a statement later,” Yakov snapped again, this time in English.

“Okay,” Yuuri said, hoping that he would soon be able to sleep (and, hopefully, wake up as himself).

But it wasn’t that simple.

After arriving at Victor’s hotel room and fumbling around for the key (“For God’s sake, it’s in your _bag_ , Vitya,” Yakov growled after Yuuri gave himself the world’s most awkward patdown) Yuuri was ready to get rid of Yakov and run straight to bed, but…

Yakov started yelling at him in Russian again.

“Can we just talk in English for a while?” Yuuri asked, raising his hand to his head as if he had a headache, which, actually, he _did_ after all the yelling.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Yakov continued, evidently just as good at yelling in English as in Russian. “First you change your step sequence at the last second. I don’t know where you got that, but I sure as hell didn’t teach it to you! And it’s all people can talk about. ‘After that quadruple flip, he suddenly became livelier.’ You took a big chance, and you’re damn lucky that the judges loved it because one wrong move would have cost you the gold. Was that what you wanted, to lose? And then you walk around in a daze like this is your first time winning anything, and then, on top of everything, you insist on speaking in English! If this is your way of saying you want to quit, I won’t accept it. How many times do I have to tell you that nobody wants you to retire but you? Does hearing it in English make it sound better, or are you just planning to ignore me the whole time? Well? I want an answer, Vitya.”

There were a lot of things on Yuuri’s mind, but one thing stuck out to him.

_‘Was Victor really going to retire?’_

“I… think I have a fever,” Yuuri replied, unable to say anything about what Victor may have been thinking about regarding retirement.

Yakov stared at him silently.

“You should go. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

Yakov shook his head. “I’m not letting this go,” he growled.

“You don’t have to. Just give me the night to think, okay? Please…” Yuuri said softly.

Yakov scowled. “You aren’t yourself tonight. I thought you’d have ditched me at the elevator.” He shook his head. “Fine, sleep it off. Just don’t expect me to make any excuses for you.”

Yuuri shook his head. “Of course not. Thank you, Yakov.”

Yakov, who was heading out the door, turned around again.

“You really are sick, aren’t you? I’ve never heard you be that polite to me before.”

He shut the door behind him, and Yuuri slumped with relief into the nearest chair.

Surely this dream would end when he went to bed. Surely it had to.

* * *

The first thing Victor did when he got to Yuuri’s home (after confirming in the mirror that yes, he was definitely Yuuri Katsuki) was climb into bed, wondering if he would wake up back in his own body.

The first thing he did when he woke up was spend five minutes searching for Yuuri’s glasses, which he eventually found pushed slightly under the bed.

The next thing he did was admire the room’s decoration.

“Wow! So he does like me!” he couldn’t help but say out loud.

There were lots of pictures and posters of Victor on the walls, and even a framed one on the desk. Victor probably shouldn’t have been as flattered as he was, but then, he had spent the past year wondering if Yuuri was _trying_ to avoid him. But surely if he was trying to avoid him, he wouldn’t want to sleep in a room surrounded by him? So Victor felt pretty good about himself.

_‘That’s really cute. Too bad I don’t have any posters of him. I wonder if I can buy any here in Japan?’_

Suddenly, a thought hit him.

“Oh, I’ll just take a selfie with Yuuri’s phone and send it to mine,” he said, smiling at his plan.

It took a minute to find Yuuri’s phone, which fortunately needed a fingerprint rather than a password to unlock.

He snapped a photo of him smilling and then sent it to his Russian phone. He set the phone on the bed and stood up, only to stumble back in shot.

“Wait, if I’m here, Yuuri’s probably in my body!” he realized, frantically grabbing the phone. “This is going to seem so weird.”

— Hey Yuuri this is you right?  
— If not just ignore this okay  
— This is Victor by the way so don’t worry! Your body is safe!

After sending out the messages, Victor had another realization.

“I was in the middle of a competition! Oh no, does that mean that Yuuri got thrown into that?”

He quickly googled “Victor Nikiforov” on Yuuri’s phone, hoping that he wouldn’t see any news like “Russian legend suddenly forgets how to skate” or worse, something like “Famous skater falls comatose on ice.”

He didn’t expect to see “VICTOR NIKIFOROV WINS GOLD AT WORLDS FOR 5TH TIME” as a headline, but hey, it was a pleasant surprise.

“So he was able to finish even though he must have been surprised,” he said softly. 

He clicked on one of the links, and nearly dropped the phone in surprise.

“Is this the best performance of ‘Stay Close To Me’ that Nikiforov has ever done?” he read aloud.

There was a video, and he tapped it. There he was, performing the moves as he remembered, and when he finished the quadruple flip… Oh, there it was. Yuuri transitioned seamlessly into the rest of the program, but it was obvious to Victor that Yuuri had put more effort into the step sequences than he would have. But then, Victor always had difficult programs and perfect jumps, so he never needed to worry about getting points. Yuuri must have practiced the jumps, too, though, because he executed them perfectly. Nobody would have guessed that it wasn’t actually Victor out there, but it was clear that the performance was different. A little more “labor of love” and a little less “I’ve done this five thousand times before.”

He looked down at the body he was currently residing in.

_‘He can’t quit. Not when he can still make music with his body.’_

He stood up, clutching the phone in his hands.

“I’ll help him get back to competing again!”

* * *

When Yuuri woke up, his first thought was a slightly panicked “where are my glasses?”

His next thought was a _very_ panicked “why am I still in Victor’s hotel room?”

The phone on his bedside table blinked, signifying missed messages, and Yuuri apprehensively took it into his hands.

_‘Oh god, is this an invasion of privacy? I’m so sorry, Victor.’_

There were a couple of voicemails, which Yuuri ignored entirely, certain that he would not be able to understand them. There was a text message from a Russian name that Yuuri couldn’t make out, and there were a few texts from Victor’s fellow competitors. But what stood out to him was the message from Yuuri’s own number. 

_‘My phone should still be in Hasetsu. Does that mean…?’_

He quickly tapped on it. The first thing that popped up was a picture of Yuuri’s smiling face. Or his body’s smiling face, at least. So someone was definitely in possession of it; that was good.

Yuuri read the following texts and nearly choked. Victor really was in his body!

He quickly fired off his own texts.

— Victor, I am so sorry.  
— I don’t know how this happened.  
— Please forgive me for ruining your performance.  
— And I may also have made your coach angry.  
— I am really, really sorry.

Less than a minute later, he received a reply.

— Yuuri it’s really you )))))  
— Your performance as me was very good so don’t worry ))))))  
— People are saying it was my best ))))  
— But I wasn’t even the one doing it TnT  
—Oh and don’t worry about Yakov. He’s always grouchy but he means well ))))

Yuuri rested the phone on the bed beside him, unsure of how to respond to that.

Suddenly, a loud banging at the door startled him. More Russian yelling followed, but it wasn’t Yakov this time.

_‘Uh-oh…’_

— Victor, someone is yelling for you in Russian. Do you know who would bang on your door?  
— Not Yakov.

The banging continued for a minute as Yuuri waited for a reply.

_‘Am I allowed to call security for something like this?’_

— If it’s a boy, it’s Yuri. If it’s a girl, it’s Mila.  
— You remember them right?

_‘Yuri? Oh, no, not THAT Yuri…’_

He sent another text just to be sure.

— Yuri Plisetsky?

—Yes that’s him.  
— He might not go away if you don’t talk to him  
— He’s very persistent ))))  
— You can talk in English to him  
— Tell him you’re going to Hasetsu

Yuuri frowned.

— I guess we had better stick together until we switch back, so I understand going to Hasetsu  
— But won’t everyone be concerned if you don’t go back to Russia?  
— Yakov thinks you want to retire?

It took a little longer for the reply to come this time. It sounded like Yuri was trying to kick the door open. Yuuri debated the merits of locking himself in the bathroom, but figured it would only buy him a few minutes at most if the teenager _did_ manage to kick the door in.

— I’m going to retire and be your coach  
— Once we switch back ))))  
— Yuri will understand so have him tell Yakov for you  
— Just get here as fast as possible )))

Yuri was getting louder outside the door, but Yuuri had to respond again, had to let Victor know he was making a mistake…

— I’m sorry but you don’t understand.  
— I don’t skate anymore.  
— I know we have to have an excuse to be staying together.  
— But once we switch back I’m really quitting.  
— Please don’t retire over something like this.

Victor’s reply was quick.

— I’m retiring no matter what  
— And you’re too good to quit now  
— Don’t you want me to be your coach? ))))

Yuuri felt his eyes water, but he rubbed the tears away before they could fall.

_‘I don’t want to go back to skating if it isn’t on the same ice as you.’_

But all he wrote was:

— We’ll talk later

Victor responded instantaneously

— K ))))))

Yuuri sighed and pocketed Victor’s phone. He needed to get to Hasetsu as quickly as he could, and clearly that meant dealing with Yuri Plisetsky.

_‘Calm down, Yuuri. He may hate your guts, but he doesn’t hate Victor’s.’_

“Ah, Yuri? Is that you?” Yuuri called warily through the door.

The kicking abruptly stopped.

“Oh, now you answer? What, were you catching up on your beauty sleep? Let me in you shithead!”

_‘Or maybe he does hate Victor’s guts.’_

“You… aren’t going to hurt me, are you?” Yuuri couldn’t help but ask.

“I will if you don’t _let me in!_ ” Yuri growled.

“Okay, okay,” Yuuri said, quickly opening the door before the “Russian punk” could cause any more damage.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing in here?” Yuri started, apparently having inherited the yelling trait from his coach. “You’re still in yesterday’s clothing! We’re leaving in two hours! You’re going to have to sell that gold medal to pay the fine they’ll give us if we check out late!”

“Ah, I’ll be ready by then,” Yuuri said hurriedly. “But… I have to tell you something first. I’m not going back to Russia,” he said quickly, waiting for Yuri to get mad and kick him.

Yuri merely snorted. “Uh-huh. And what are you going to do hanging around in Japan? Look for Yuuri Katsuki?”

Yuuri blinked. “Uh… yes? I mean, no. I’m going to his house for a while. I’m going to… ask him to come back to skating?”

_‘I can’t say “coach” because I have no intention of skating again…’_

“You bastard! You’re leaving to go be his coach, aren’t you?” Yuri hissed, a dark look coming over his face.

_‘Did Victor… tell Yuri that he wanted to coach me… before all this?’_

“No, I- “

“I should have known the second we set foot in Japan that you would try to pull something like this.” Yuri growled.

“I-“

“Does he even know you’re coming? Or were you just going to ‘surprise’ him?”

“He knows!” Yuuri protested. “We’ve talked about it.”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “So he avoids all contact with the figure skating world for a year and then breaks his silence just to talk to you. Figures.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Your mind is set, isn’t it?”

Yuuri nodded. It wasn’t like he actually had a choice. If Victor were in his own body, Yuuri wouldn’t want him to stay in Japan, either, but as long as they were like this, they had to stay together.

“Hmph. And of course you don’t even remember the promise you made _me,_ ” Yuri muttered.

_‘A promise to Yuri? Victor didn’t mention anything about that, so I can’t even say anything.’_

“I’m sorry, Yuri.”

Yuri scoffed and waved him off. “No you aren’t. You don’t even remember.” He scowled. “But here’s the deal. You get that pathetic Japanese skater back on the ice and I’ll think about forgiving you. I want to crush him myself in my senior debut.”

“Ah… okay.”

_‘Sorry Victor, Yuri… I don’t know why either of you would want to see me skate again, but I guess I’m going to be letting you both down._

“Just hurry up and get out of here before Yakov comes, or else don’t come crying to me.” Yuri snapped impatiently.

“Right. Thank you, Yuri.”

Yuri’s expression turned sour. “That’s so unlike you that I want to be sick,” he said, disgusted. “But I’d better hear from you soon or I swear I will come back to Japan just to murder you and Yuuri Katsuki both.”

* * *

Victor had just gone out for a run when he felt Yuuri’s phone vibrate.

— I’m at the station right now.  
— Should I just meet you at home?

Victor smiled at the messages.

— Stay there. I’ll come to you ))))

He laughed at the next messages he received.

— I’m hiding in the bathroom.  
— Why are you so famous?

Victor didn’t bother to reply, but he picked up speed. 

When he slipped into the train station’s bathroom, he was the only one he could see.

“Yuuri? Are you in here?” he asked loudly.

“Victor… Shhh…” a voice whispered from the stall furthest from the door.

Slowly, the stall door creaked open. Out stepped one Yuuri Katsuki in the body of Victor Nikiforov, eyes covered by dark sunglasses and hair carefully tucked into a dull brown hat.

“Yuuri, ahhhh…”

“Don’t laugh,” Yuuri whispered harshly. “I had to escape from the news reporters no less than _five_ times on my way here. This disguise finally lost them.”

“I wasn’t going to laugh,” Victor lied. “I was going to say ‘I’m so happy to see you!’” He pressed forward, clasping Yuuri’s hands.

Yuuri felt strange seeing his own face looking at him so intensely. It was hard to imagine Victor Nikiforov looking at him like that…

… Except… It wasn’t hard at all… If he saw that look on silver-haired, blue-eyed Victor, he…

Yuuri gasped, jerking his hands out of Victor’s grasp. He flung himself as far back into the stall as he could manage, shrieking slightly.

“Yuuri? Why did you run away?”

“I- We’re- We’re in a bathroom, Victor,” he pointed out.

 _‘He’s TOO close to me,’_ Yuuri thought, alarmed by the thrill that had just gone through him.

“Oh. Should we go home, then?” Victor asked.

Yuuri nodded, putting a calming hand over his frantically-beating heart.

_‘Get yourself together, Yuuri. As soon as we switch back, he’s going to leave. Don’t get too excited.’_

* * *

“Victor Nikiforov?” Mari shrieked as soon as Yuuri entered his home. “Yuuri, why didn’t you tell us he was coming? No, wait, how long have you been planning this? Weren’t you all depressed after the Grand Prix Final because you couldn’t talk to him? Don’t tell me you’ve been talking in secret all this time? Yuuri, explain yourself!” she demanded in Japanese.

Yuuri had to fight to hold back a reaction, since “Victor Nikiforov” couldn’t start speaking Japanese out of the blue. He leaned over to speak in Victor’s ear.

“She doesn’t understand why I’m here, since she knows I’ve never been able to talk to you,” he whispered.

Victor looked at him in confusion, but then gave a charming smile to Yuuri’s family.

“We met at the banquet after the Grand Prix Final. He’s been wanting to visit me ever since, but you know, he was so busy with Nationals and Worlds that he hasn’t had a chance until now.”

Yuuri felt himself sweating.

_‘That’s not a very realistic story, Victor…’_

“That’s right,” Yuuri said quickly. Maybe his family would buy it if “Victor” confirmed it? “We met at the… banquet…” He glanced at Victor questioningly, but he wasn’t looking at him. “... and… here I am.”

Mari looked like she was about to die of shock. It was Yuuri’s mother who managed to speak.

“We are happy to have you, Victor,” she spoke in English. “Please stay as long as you like.”

Yuuri felt his eyes burn, and he looked away from his mother quickly. This was going to be harder than he thought…

“Ah, thank you,” he managed to say. “Come on, ah, _Yuuri_ , why don’t you show me to your room.”

“Of course!” Victor said, acting much more cheerful than Yuuri realistically could have around Victor… but at least they were getting away from any further questioning.

Only, when Yuuri entered his room, he remembered something.

“Oh… my _god_ , I-”

The _posters._

“I am _so_ sorry! I will take them all down! I’m sorry you had to sleep with your own face on the wall! This is so embarrassing! Please forgive me, Victor! You weren’t supposed to see this!” Yuuri said in one breath, not even pausing between sentences. 

“Whoa!” Victor exclaimed, placing his hand on Yuuri’s shoulder before he could start ripping the pictures off the walls. “Be careful or you’ll tear them. Besides, I like some of these. I had such a cute face when I was younger, didn’t I? Look at this one with me and Makka – oh!”

Yuuri looked up in alarm. “Victor? What’s wrong?”

Victor was looking at a picture of him and his dog dejectedly.

“Makka’s in Russia all alone,” he said sadly. “Yuuri, can I have my phone back? I need to text someone…”

“Oh, right,” Yuuri nodded, pulling out Victor’s phone. “Ah, I think we had better remove the fingerprint verification on our phones before we switch them, though…”

A few minutes later, Victor was sending rapid-fire texts, his fingers flying over the keys.

— Yuri, are you in Russia again now?  
— I need you to get Makka and come back to Japan  
— I’ll pay for your flight 

It didn’t take too long for a reply to come. While Victor waited, Yuuri tried to discreetly remove the posters from the wall.

— You didn’t think about your dog? How last-minute was your little scheme?  
— The plane JUST landed, asshole.  
— I am NOT going back just so you can snuggle your slobbering furball.

“Yuuri, he won’t bring Makka to Japan,” Victor whined.

“Who won’t?” Yuuri asked distractedly, trying to delicately place his framed photo of Victor into a drawer.

“Yuri. I mean, Russian Yuri. Hmm, this could get confusing. Let’s just call him Yurio.”

“Yurio, uh-huh,” Yuuri repeated, still moving in a distracted daze.

— But what will Makka do without me?  
— You have to at least take care of him  
— Oh and I talked to Yuuri about you  
— it’s confusing because your names sound the same so we’ve decided to give you a cute nickname )))  
— If you get called Yurio that’s why ))))

Victor looked up while he waited for Yurio to respond.

“Huh? Where did the posters go?”

“Away,” Yuuri said, slumping to the floor tiredly. “Don’t look for them.”

“But I liked seeing my face…”

“Then look at me.”

“Oh! Okay!” Victor agreed. “I want to look at you after I’m done talking to Yurio.”

— What the hell? Why would you give ME the nickname? Call him something different!  
— On second thought, no. Do NOT give him a nickname.  
— If you two show up for a competition calling each other pet names I will personally drag you back to Russia where you belong.  
— Georgi is going to take care of your dog, so calm down. He needs something to do other than cry about Anya, anyway.  
— Now stop blabbering and get to coaching.  
— And tell the moron I’m going to kick his ass.

Victor set his phone down with a sigh. “Makka’s staying in Russia with Georgi,” he said, pouting slightly.

“Oh… Victor, I’m sorry. We need to figure out how to swap back so you can go back as soon as possible,” Yuuri said apologetically, standing up from his position on the floor.

“What? Yuuri, I’m not going to go back when we swap. I’m serious about becoming your coach!” Victor insisted.

“I know that’s what you said, but… why?” Yuuri shook his head. “Don’t you want to go home? Instead of being trapped here?”

 _‘Trapped? No, I’m free,’_ Victor thought.

“Yuuri, I might not have made it clear before, but I was always planning on retiring this year. Being able to meet you was just… good luck,” Victor explained. “I want to stay with you, teach you, get to know you. Will you let me?”

“Victor…” Yuuri’s heart beat in his chest.

 _‘Oh, this feeling… it’s happiness,’_ Yuuri thought.

“I planned to put an end to my skating career, but… how can I say no when it’s you asking me?” He laughed a little. “So, okay, as long as you’re with me, I’ll work hard to get to the Grand Prix Final!”

“And you’re going to win!” Victor added.

“Right! But, ah, I need my body back first.”

“Oh, right.”

* * *

“So, you really think we’ll switch back if we both skate ‘Stay Close To Me’ again?” Yuuri asked hesitantly.

After Yuuko had graciously offered the rink at Ice Castle Hasetsu for Yuuri and Victor’s private use, the first and most obvious plan was to try to skate the same thing they had done before and hope that whatever power had switched them would switch them back.

“It’s worth a try, don’t you think,” Victor said. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Well…

“Ouch,” Yuuri and Victor said, each stumbling back as they collided with each other mid-jump.

Sadly, the collision hadn’t switched them back, either.

“Yuuri, what was that? Because it certainly wasn’t a quadruple flip...” Victor admonished him.

“Victor, ah, well, I have a little trouble landing that one,” he laughed nervously.

“Yuuri…” Victor frowned. “How will we go back if you don’t land it?”

Yuuri’s eyes widened. 

“Oh no, isn’t that the part where we switched the first time? You’re right, if I don’t land it…” 

Yuuri felt a sudden weight sinking in his chest. He placed a shaking hand to his cheek.

“Victor, I’m sorry, I-“

He felt the lightest of touches on his shoulder, and then Victor was speaking into his ear.

“Shh, it’s fine,” Victor said softly. “We’ll work on it together.”

“But if I can’t-“

“You can,” Victor insisted. “Yuuri, you _have_. You can do it again. You just need confidence.”

“Confidence… I need confidence…” Yuri repeated back. The cloud over his mind lifted, and his gaze hardened. “I’m going to master the quadruple flip,” he said decisively.

“That’s the spirit!”

* * *

“You’re going to over-rotate if you do it that way,” Victor pointed out. They had been practicing for a week now, but Yuuri had only managed to land the quad a few times, and never consistently.

“Yuuri, you’re thinking too much. You always mess up when something is on your mind. Want to talk about it?” Victor offered.

 _‘Just worried that we’ll be stuck here forever because I’m not mentally strong enough for this,’_ Yuuri thought. Not that he would mind spending forever with Victor, but… he would rather do it as himself.

“Nope!” he called to Victor as he missed the jump and landed on the ice, _again_.

“Do you want to take a break?” Victor suggested. “We’ve been at this for hours. Let’s eat lunch together.”

“Yeah, alright,” Yuuri agreed, making his way off the ice.

“I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it,” Victor started as they sat down to eat. “But, Yuuri, I can tell that your thoughts just before failing a jump are very different from your thoughts just before you nail it.”

“Hmm, I guess they are,” Yuuri agreed, pressing some rice to his lips.

“Maybe we’re going about this the wrong way. Don’t think about your thoughts from earlier. Just tell me what you’re thinking about when you succeed.”

_‘What have I been thinking about when I land the quadruple flip?’ >/i>_

Oh, now that he thought about it…

_‘It’s always been Victor.’_

Victor’s smile, his eyes, his face that had lately been staring back at Yuuri from the mirror. Yuuri wanted Victor to look at him, not in Yuuri’s body but in his own, and praise him for his work, and-

_‘If I can do your move, will you stay close to me, Victor?’_

“I thought about you,” Yuuri admitted after a moment. “Not… Not about what you’re telling me to do, just… Just you. As a person.”

“Me? Really?” A pleased smile curled across Victor’s face. “And were you thinking about me the first time, too?”

“Yes,” Yuuri repeated.

He wasn’t prepared for tears to well up in Victor’s eyes.

“So my feelings did reach you,” Victor said happily.

“I… don’t understand,” Yuuri said apologetically.

“Oh, of course. It’s just…” Victor smiled. “I was thinking about you when I was skating, too. After we met, all I could think about when I skated this program was you.”

“W-What? When did we meet…? The banquet?”

“Yes, at the banquet, of course!”

“Th-That can’t be right. I mean, I remember seeing you there, but I couldn’t even talk to you after my terrible performance. I stayed in the corner and got wasted. I don’t even remember how I got home!” Yuuri said, laughing nervously.

“Yuuri… You mean you don’t remember anything after you got drunk?” Victor exclaimed.

“No, nothing! Was it horribly embarrassing?”

“Not even… this?” Victor asked, standing and pulling Yuuri up toward him so that their faces were close.

“Or this?” he continued, twisting so that their hands were clasped together, their bodies in the proper position of a tango.

“I did that back then? Oh my _god_ , and you _saw_ me?” Yuuri asked, feeling like he was going to die from embarrassment.

“And I guess you don’t remember asking me to be your coach, either,” Victor added sulkily, letting go of Yuuri.

“I did _what_?” Yuuri asked incredulously. “I can’t believe nobody told me I was making a fool of myself like that. Where was Celestino during all this?”

“Oh, your coach? He passed out from the alcohol while you were on your… sixth drink?” Victor answered before shaking his head. “So you really had no idea that we’d met before?”

“No…”

“Explains why you didn’t believe I wanted to be your coach…” Victor muttered.

Suddenly, he stood up straight.

“Yuuri!” he exclaimed. “Do you still want me to be your coach?” he asked worriedly.

“I… I do.”

“And,” Victor grabbed Yuuri’s hands. “Yuuri, do you like me?”

“O-Of course, I mean, you’re my coach, and-“

“No!” Victor drew their hands closer to his chest. “Do you _like_ me, Yuuri? Now that you know why I wanted to come here…” A blush rose to his cheeks. “I… Oh!” He suddenly dropped Yuuri’s hands. “I’ll still coach you if you don’t! I don’t want you to think-“

“Victor,” Yuuri interrupted. “I do like you! A lot!” This time, Yuuri was the one blushing. “I wouldn’t have done those things if I hadn’t been drunk, but… I still would have felt them… I still would have wanted you… Ah…”

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed, pulling him into an embrace. “I’m so happy! I want to- oh…”

“W-What is it?” Yuuri asked, terrified that he was disappointing Victor _already_.

“No, it’s not you, Yuuri… I wanted to kiss you, but… Of course we can’t do that when we look like this,” he said disappointedly.

“Oh, of course not,” Yuuri agreed, also disappointed. Suddenly, an idea popped into his head.

“Victor, let’s go back to the rink. I think I know what to do now!” Yuuri said.

“Even though we hardly ate anything?” Victor asked, gesturing to the bowls of rice that had long been abandoned.

“Eat on the way if you’re hungry,” Yuuri said dismissively, shoving a bowl into Victor’s hands.

* * *

“You want to do a pair skate? But we’d have to change the choreography. I don’t mind, if you think it will work, but…”

“Victor, I think the song means something different to us both now,” Yuuri said, smiling.

“Ah, you’re right, Yuuri,” Victor responded, smiling in turn. “I know just what to change.”

“Just make sure I have a quadruple flip,” Yuri insisted.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ll land it this time.”

“I know you will.”

It took Victor a few days to come up with new choreography, and another week to practice just enough so that they could get to the end. Both skaters knew it wasn’t going to be very polished. 

But they agreed that it spoke for their feelings.

“You know where to come in?” Yuuri asked.

Victor nodded.

“Watch me, then,” Yuuri said, skating to the center of the ice. The music started. Yuuri skated.

‘The first quad, a lutz. Easy.’

Victor wasn’t supposed to cheer, but he apparently couldn’t resist clapping. Yuuri smiled.

_“Victor Nikiforov’s signature move, a quadruple flip. You can see in person how I feel now, Victor.’_

For a moment, he thought that he was going to switch bodies again right then. Victor wasn’t even on the ice yet, but Yuuri thought he could feel his heartbeat. He prepared his body, and he jumped.

A perfect quadruple flip.

 _‘Don’t cry again, Victor,’_ he thought as he saw Victor bring his hands to his face. ‘ _Come and join me now.’_

And when Victor did reach him, the heartbeat that he was sure wasn’t his blended into his own.

_‘This is it.’_

“It’s time for the lift,” Victor whispered.

“Mmhmm,” Yuuri agreed.

They closed their eyes.

_‘Stay close to me, Yuuri.’_  
_‘Don’t go, Victor.’_

Yuuri felt his body leave the ground. Seconds passed, then he was on the ice again.

He opened his eyes

He was looking into blue.

“We did it,” Yuuri said softly.

“You look even better in your own body,” Victor told him, spinning him around.

“It’s the same for you,” Yuuri replied. “So, are we going to finish the routine now that we’re back?” he asked.

“Hmm… No,” Victor decided, slowing to stop. “There’s something I’ve been putting off for a while.”

He pressed his lips to Yuuri’s. Their eyes closed.

**Author's Note:**

> This wasn't proofread, by the way. It was 20 pages and I'm so tired... But if you see any mistakes, please tell me and I will try to fix them. I know errors can be... disorienting.
> 
> Also, thoughts ('noted like this') are supposed to be in italics. This is going to take a while to fix, though, and I want to go to bed, so... I'll do it later, really. I apologize if it makes it difficult to read.
> 
>  **Edit:** I went back and fixed the issue with the italics, as well as a few other errors. Again, if you see anything I missed, please feel free to tell me so I can (hopefully) fix it ^u^


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